Possessed
by Citizenjess
Summary: Shendu prods Valmont during tea time. Slashy undertones.


I don't own JCA, yadda yadda.

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**Possessed**

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The worst part about being possessed by a huffy demon bent on world domination was not his dissatisfaction at being entrapped in a human body; if anything Valmont prided himself on his attractive outer disposition. It provided him an outlet with which to ensnare and influence the pitiful human beings he was so intent to rise above. It wasn't even that Shendu's mind was hopelessly one-tracked either, because the light-haired crime lord was nothing if not dedicated to essentially the same cause.

No, what Valmont really despised about having the spirit of his former cohort inside of him was Shendu's newfound ability to see inside his head. At times, Valmont could suppress the soft buzzing the signaled Shendu's attempt to take over as speaker for their mutual body, unless his ex-master was really angry or persistent to exert his authority; Valmont grew tired of waking up to find his masculinity squashed into the ceremonial robes that Shendu favored on his tanned frame, but he could, as Chan's annoyingly optimistic niece had been heard to say, "deal".

However, the inward humiliation he suffered on a now-frequent basis when Shendu tapped into his innermost thoughts and feelings was a particularly exquisite way to suffer. Worse yet was the fact that the demon was a bit of a sadist and quite often bored, and thus, very much enjoyed making his possessee squirm. It was almost routine, a pattern, a little game between the two of them now; 'I know what you're thinking,' Shendu would whisper breathily. If he were in a materialized form, the heat from his nostrils alone would warm an entire side of Valmont's sharply-cut face; as it was, the hair on the back of his neck always seemed to be on end these days.

"Do you now?" Valmont would ask, mentally berating his hands for shaking as they clutched the porcelain teapot he had just picked up from the coffee table. Sitting in his favorite armchair with nobody else around, it was almost as if he was spending a peaceful afternoon to himself; best to play along and not ruin the moment by incurring a bloody migraine.

'I can see into the inner recesses of your mind,' Shendu continued tauntingly. 'Everything you try to hide behind that icy facade, all of your dreams and hopes, your WEAKNESSES'; he paused, and Valmont imagined the demon flicking his tongue in satisfaction. 'All of them are stored in here. Convenient, is it not? Human beings are so . . . accessible,' he finished smugly, and the crime lord wiped clammy hands on his expensive Italian suit before pouring himself some tea. Grasping the cup, he took an experimental sip and willed his throat to stop constricting. "I imagine they are, Shendu," he muttered.

'For instance,' the demon continued unfazed, 'I know that you really despise me. You would shove me through the door to another dimension just as quickly as Chan and his little party of do-gooders would if the opportunity arose.' Valmont swallowed hard, resisting the urge to cough; the topic of Chan and Section 13 always made him tense, and Shendu knew that. Bastard.

Still, they had been through this leg of the conversation many times, so the crime lord's response was fairly mechanical, if not widely believed by either party. "Of course not, Shendu; you know that if I had the chance, I would release you so that you could conquer the world." He sipped his tea once again and the demon seemed to simmer momentarily. Not for long, however; 'you don't LIKE Chan, do you, Valmont?' Shendu whispered. Valmont's brow furrowed. "No," he answered shortly.

'I'm sure the feeling is mutual, too; Chan needs somebody stable and open, not to mention definitively on his side,' Shendu prompted again. This time, Valmont was unsuccessful in trying to squelch choking on his tea. "Since when did you care about Chan's needs?" he scoffed, scowling at the new spatter on his expensive green jacket.

Shendu chuckled darkly. 'I believe this is your head we're discussing, not mine,' he reminded the crime lord, and then, before Valmont could fathom any more weak protests: 'have you ever told anyone that you're gay?'

"W-what? I am not, either!" Valmont gasped, wondering how the conversation had turned to his sexual orientation with a few well-placed responses. He cursed himself for playing into Shendu's hands. Claws. Other-worldly something-or-other. It wasn't that the suggestion - because that's all it was, a forethought from the deranged mind of his former master, obviously - was really that appalling. He had just never thought of himself as any part of the human dating pool; he'd had his share of suitors when he was younger (mostly his parents' doing), and he knew he could charm the skin off of a snake, but . . . no he didn't need to think about this. He refused to think about it, in fact, and blast Shendu a thousand times over for being so bloody nosey to begin with. Satisfied with this, he sipped his tea again.

'So anxious,' Shendu cooed in an infuriatingly amused tone. 'So nervous and excited, and over Chan of all people.' Valmont forced himself to smirk. "I don't know what you're talking about," he replied smoothly, only a small tremor in his voice. "I care nothing for Chan, except that he proves to be a worthy adversary." He didn't care that Chan would just as soon hand him over to the authorities as look at him, either.

Silence from the entrapped demon for a few minutes; Shendu must have tired of debating with him about . . . that. It-that-would-not-be-named-because-there-was-nothing-TO-name, even; Valmont's shoulders had almost begun to droop when the irritating buzzing in his head flared up again. 'Well, it was only a question. I'm sure there are a lot of things you neglect to tell anyone, eh, Valmont?'

"I suppose." Sip.

'And well you shouldn't; secrecy is a sign of prudence, of dedication. A wise man knows how to keep a secret; a fool runs out to boast of his accomplishments. Don't you agree?'

"Erm, yes." Shendu was infinitely more tolerable when he was in lecture-mode than when he was trying to pry information from someone. He was almost pleasant this way, as a matter of fact. Sip.

'There are some things one just doesn't tell anyone,' Shendu continued smoothly. When he received nothing but silence in response, he pressed on. 'For example, how often one wets the bed. Isn't that right, Valmont?'

"WHAT?" More spots on his blasted suit.

'There's really no use denying it, you know. I can see everything you're thinking.'

"I-I . . .!"

'Wouldn't Section 13 be interested to know? And your minions? And Chan?'

"Bloody hell; I was away at boarding school for the first time. I was ten bloody years old! It's not a recurring event," he added hastily, fingers wrapped tightly enough around the teacup to shatter it. "I hate you."

'Of course, Valmont'; so condescending, so perpetually annoying, so incredibly unwanted. And yet, some facet of the crime lord's mind was at ease knowing that somebody, even Shendu . . . knew. Something. About him. It was almost like having a confidante, however forced and despised the receptive ear.

He closed his eyes and sipped the remains of his tea.


End file.
